


He Is The Reason

by katehuntington



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Comfort Sex, Comfort/Angst, Comforting Dean Winchester, Crying, Dean Winchester Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, NSFW, Oral Sex, Panic Attack, Shower Sex, Smut, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21850744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katehuntington/pseuds/katehuntington
Summary: When a case almost goes wrong, Y/N reaches her breaking point. She tries to wash the memories away in the shower, but the only one who can really help her, is Dean. (Dean x Reader oneshot. Smut, angst)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	He Is The Reason

It’s way past midnight when the hunters entered the bunker. Exhausted and worn, Y/N dragged her feet to the showers, muttering to the boys that she needed some time. Clearing her sore throat, she closed the door and turned the faucet, before stripping herself from her dirty clothes. 

Now, with the water running and steam spreading in the small space, she is staring at her reflection in the mirror while leaning on the sink. Moist builds up on the glass, but she doesn’t need a clear vision to detect the dark circles under her sunken eyes, the dirt on her dry skin and the blood in her tangled hair. _Holy shit, you look like a stack of train wrecks.  
_ Her appearance matches her mental state. In the Impala, between balancing on the edge of unconsciousness and vivid tainted memories mixed together with a nightmare, she gave today’s outcome a lot of thought. God, this case could have gone so terribly wrong. Once again the hunters beat the odds, because honestly, what were the chances of the Winchesters finding her? 

Demons took her, waiting for the opportune moment when she headed out by herself, to pick up some pizza. A team of five ambushed her in the little Italian place down Main Street in Lebanon, killing the staff while they were at it. It was a set up and clear as day that they wanted to catch Dean’s precious girlfriend alone. Payback, they called it, as the torture went on for hours on end. She knew she was being used for bait. She also knew the Winchesters would show at some point. The question was, if they were going to be on time. One wrong remark and those black eyed bastards would have killed her, just for sport. Anything to get revenge, for all of their kind that Sam and Dean sent back to Hell over the years.   
Those three days that she was chained to an autopsy table in an abandoned morgue left enough marks as it is, though. Handling fear is in the job description, but fuck, she was terrified. They got creative. They undressed her, tied her up completely naked, cutting her delicate skin with dull knives. They pulled nails from her toes and beat her to the edge of unconsciousness, but never over it, because they didn’t want her to have a break from the pain. They used their powers to twist her intestines into bends she didn’t even know were possible and there were many times that she was sure something had burst inside of her. She trembled, cried, silently wished for Dean, the image of him the only thing that kept her hopes up. She prayed to Cas, even though the place was warded. When that didn’t work, she prayed to Chuck, but since when does God ever give a shit, right? 

Leaving her blurry reflection for what it is, she turns away and gets in the shower. Water almost hot enough to burn her skin falls down, but she doesn’t flinch. The dirt, the _filth_, it has to wash off. It feels like acid is pouring into the breaks of her skin, but she bites down the pain. She needs to get clean in order to leave the memories behind. But let’s face facts; not even boiling hot water could wash away this trauma.   
As she stands there under the hot rain, her breathing picks up. Tears mix with the water coming from the shower head as she rests her forehead against the cool tiles, trying to find support, might she collapse. With her eyes closed she cries, arms crossed in front of her chest protectively. There’s nothing left for the tough as nails, brave, and independent woman that she thought herself to be. These three days have been too much, forcing her to lose the game she used to play so well. _I can’t do this anymore_, she thinks to herself. 

Her knees are about to give out, but before she sinks down on the tiled floor, she hears the doorknob turn. Startled she pulls in a sharp breath, holds it and exhales slowly, trying to calm herself. _Man up, wipe your tears away. Dean can’t see you like this._ But the sounds of her cries must have carried further than she wanted. That’s why he’s here, isn’t it? Deciding that there’s no point in hiding it anymore, she waits, listening to the sound of fabrics wrinkling and rubbing as he strips down. The sound of his footsteps approaching the shower. The sound of the curtain sliding aside, letting a cool draft lick at her ankles. 

The moment Dean lays eyes on her broken body, his heart crumbles. The woman for whom he would do anything to make her happy, has gone through hell. She got caught in the crossfire in this war he is fighting. She got hurt, because those sons of bitches knew it would hurt him. Guilt twists in his gut when he notices the cuts and bruising on her naked form. He has to make it right, he has to take the pain away. He owes her that much, after everything she has done for him.

Contradicting thoughts cause her to remain unresponsive, her back turned to Dean while leaning against the tiles, shutting him out. He shouldn’t be a witness of the mess that she is, but deep down he is all she wants right now. Without words Dean gives her exactly that, because within moments she feels his warm hands snake around her waist, after which he carefully pulls her back against his chest. His touch does something to her, something she doesn’t expect. One would expect the gesture to give her strength, but instead she falls to pieces in his arms.   
“Shhh… I got you. I got you,” he hushes, his chin on her shoulder as he wraps his body around her a little tighter, offering his girl the shelter she desperately needs. “I know. I’m here now… You’re safe.”

Moved by his affection she grabs his forearms and squeezes them, letting her tears run free as she rests the back of her head against his chest. Allowing herself to let out a sob, her walls fall. Physical pain rips through her chest as it tightens, causing it to be impossible to breathe. The breakdown isn’t just led on by this case, the life, the close call with death. It’s because she and Dean almost got separated for good, the one person she cannot imagine being without. They almost lost each other, and she can’t hide the fear that thought alone brings along. Not from him. The most intimate feelings and her scariest thoughts are safe with Dean, because he’s familiar with every single one of them, too.  
  
“Breathe… Just breathe,” he soothes, holding her close as he can.  
Fully accepting his support, she turns around in his arms, pressing herself against his strong frame. Still unable to stop herself from crying, she opens her hand and spreads her fingers over his chest, her cheek against his heart as she listens to his rhythm of life. She senses the kiss he leaves on her hair, but she doesn’t see that Dean closes his eyes, moved as he does so. Her breathing evens out to meet the same pace as his soft caress on her back, soft whimpering fading into the sound of the water raining down on them. 

Without breaking the intimacy, Dean takes the shower gel from the small shelf in the corner of the shower and squeezes the lotion out of the bottle into his hand. Hoping it will relieve some of the stress, he spreads it out over her shoulders and back, running his fingers over tense muscles as the soap starts to foam. Eventually she stops hitching, quieted by his touch as she leans against him, feeling his hands on tight knots between her shoulder blades. It hurts slightly as he rolls his fingers over the sore spots, but with every movement the tension in her back is relieved a little bit more, until the pain is as good as gone. Dean continues washing the dirt away, soaking the blood from her hair and letting the water take it into the drain. The way he takes care of her is so gentle and soothing, that she feels much better by the time she’s washed clean. 

Y/N lifts her head and looks up into the sea of emerald green in his eyes, taking him in. Water droplets chase each other down from his shoulders, beads hanging from his hair. He probably didn’t shave for days, since a week old scruff frames his strong features. Dark circles tell the story of long, worried days, but right below them playful freckles are sprinkled on his cheeks and nose. A small smile forms on her lips as she counts a couple, triggering Dean’s eyes to become a little brighter. For a few more seconds they dwell in that moment where they just look at each other, surrounded by mist and comfortably warm water, but then she closes the distance and tiptoes to kiss him. As their lips meet, both push everything that has happened to the back of their minds. It’s still there, though, allowing the unconditional love they feel for each other to magnify. It could have been over. She could have died today. Yet here they are.

He kisses her back with such passion that nothing else matters anymore. With her eyes closed she lets her hands explore his wet skin, moving up his toned chest, running up his neck to cup his face. Drops bounce off her shoulders and run down the lines of her bruised form, which Dean handles very gently, aware of how fragile she is right now. Arms crossed behind his neck she pulls him closer, pressing her body against his. She wants him, she needs him, because who knows when it all might end? It’s the positive side of surviving such a traumatic event; one only then understands what’s truly important in life. It teaches a person to live in the moment, to treasure all that’s beautiful and appreciate the time that is offered. 

Willingly, Dean follows her cue and pushes his hips against her, his fingers raking through her hair. The water washes away the worry that weighed heavy on him and he closes his eyes, water drops dripping down his face and clinging to his eyelashes. He listens to the sound of the shower and Y/N’s respiration between kisses, rhythmic and intriguing. After slowly turning her around he pulls his girl closer, her back now against his chest, nuzzling his nose against her skin as he kisses her shoulder tenderly. God, it feels good to have her in his arms, to be intimate with her again. _I found her. She’s still here_. It’s the only thing he can think of as his hands trail over her breasts, then continue to follow the fine edges down her body. 

Captivated by his touch that feels similar to the water seeking its way down her skin, so light, she lays her head back against his chest. Baring her neck for him to kiss, she moves her hands over his, fingers interlocking as she follows his movements. Every touch says ‘I missed you.’ Every breath whispers ‘I’m so glad you’re alive’.

Shivers run down her spine when his fingers slip down to the most intimate part of the female body, parting her folds. Closing her eyes she whimpers, letting him build her up as she holds still. While his lips gingerly brush her ear, his index finger swirls over her sensitive nub. The slow-building high that starts to cloud her mind pushes the nightmares away, bathing her in a peaceful bliss. For a little while her train of thought stops completely and all she feels are the sparks that are triggered by his fingertips. 

She lets him treat her, not fighting him for dominance like she usually does. Tonight he takes care of her, glueing the broken pieces back together. Curses won’t be falling from their lips, the sex will not be rough and fast paced. After the horror she endured, he wants to be tender. She needs to be reminded that it’s not just darkness and misery. She needs to be reminded that she can always come home to him.  
Dean slowly turns her around, facing her now, the water coming down gathering in a puddle when he presses his lower body against her. His lips don’t linger on hers long and he begins his descent, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her collarbone, then her breasts.   
He gets on his knees, the pads of his fingers pressing into her hips. For a second he looks up to make sure she’s okay, and when he finds her looking down on him in anticipation, want swimming in her dark pupils, he presses a kiss below her belly button. Without rushing, he traces her inner thighs with his thumbs, holding her still as he laps at her vulva breezily, but then goes deeper, delving in his tongue. 

She steadies herself with one hand against the slippery wall and the other on his strong shoulder, her jaw lowered and eyes shut. A pleading sigh escapes her when he parts from her heat for a second, but then he lifts her leg over his shoulder, granting him a better angle. Droplets pour down on them, rolling down her stomach, adding to her juices on Dean’s lips. He now attends her sweet spot, flicking, drawing figures, drinking her in. She grips him tighter, her soft moans filling the moist air. Her legs begin to give out and she buckles forward, her abdomen spasming now that he’s picking up the pace. Dean holds her up, though, giving her the support she needs. 

In no rush, Dean slows down, parting her lips and giving her a minute to recover, before he intensifies the motions again. This time he brings her closer to the edge, knowing her body well enough to recognize the signs. Her calling his name, first a whisper, but a little louder with each time. Her pulling him even closer with the leg hanging over his shoulder, her heel digging in his back as she tenses up. Her breath hitching, not from crying, but from the sheer pleasure he’s offering her. 

She begins to tremble, her grip on his shoulder so tight that he can feel her fingernails leaving crescent shapes in his skin. Then she comes, a last grunt pushed from her throat. He listens to her respiration, how she struggles to control it while he works her through her orgasm, but then he lets her leg slide off his shoulder. He gazes up at the woman who has his heart, making sure she has found her footing before he rises up. Dizzy, she opens her hazy eyes, dwelling in ecstacy. The drizzle leaves tiny drops on her face, spread across her flushed cheeks. 

“You alright?” he checks, his voice soft.  
She nods and buries her face in the nape of his neck, still catching her breath. He sighs and folds his arms around her, letting her lean against him as he presses a kiss on her soaked hair. Being able to hold her after everything that happened is a blessing, one that Dean is grateful for. He closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, the warm rain still coming down on them. This is it, this moment, right here. This is the moment neither of them thought they were ever going to experience again. Emotion hits him suddenly and he hugs her a little tighter.  
“I wanna stay here forever,” she whispers.  
Dean swallows thickly. “Me too.”

As she stands there, sheltered by his body, she realises something: He isn’t just the reason she’s still alive, he is the reason she wants to be alive. Maybe that’s why he was the only one on her mind when her life was on the line. Maybe that’s why she feels healed, like she was touched by an angel, even though her injuries are still evident.   
She lifts her chin, taking in the handsome man that is her partner. He tucks his head down, a small smile forming before he kisses her softly. Maybe that’s why, when his lips leave hers for a short moment, she whispers ‘I love you’, out loud, for the very first time.


End file.
